A Love that Shall Never Die
by Touch of Grey
Summary: Angrif/OC Terrible story, really. Even the mighty Angrif Djun has a devoted mate.


My relationship with Angrif Djun has changed over the turns, like stones being shaped by gentle hands, slowly becoming beautiful beads.

It started when we were small, when little Angrif and Gifa entered my mother's shop looking for a good luck charm. I, being quite a young whelp, was given the arduous task of finding out exactly what the daughter of the fearsome Djun wanted. Making Gifa's bracelet was my first true assignment as a beader, and as I watched the girl smile at the red, blue, and purple stones, I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. I found Angrif's praise just as, if not more, satisfying as the work it took to make the bracelet in the first place. I was six turns old when I decided that I truly wanted to follow my mother's path in life, thanks to her smile, and his praise.

It was only two turns later that my mother was claimed by the pox. Her death was slow and unbearably painful, both for her and me. She died in the spring. Angrif had strictly forbidden his sister to go to the funeral, but he still showed up and allowed me to let down my tough shell and cry like the child I was before going out to greet the mourners as the adult I now had to be. I stood stoically by my mothers' grave as the priest said the prayers for her soul. At some point, I'm not quite sure when, my hand found Angrif's and held on tightly. We made a silent vow to never speak of it again, the way his hand felt so large and safe covering mine. Three days after the funeral, Teramisa's shop was closed forevermore, and Veratice's shop was opened for business.

There is a single night every harvest, well, the night before the great harvest, when everyone in town gets together. Men put down their ploughs and axes, women leave the sewing, cooking, and cleaning, and all the stores close. The entire town gathers in the square to feast and sing and dance and thank Threk'sht for such a bountiful harvest to be. I myself have always loved this small festival, for it allows me to see all my friends and neighbors happy for the same reason. Angrif and Gifa have always found the time to sneak away from their father and join in the fun, if only for a little while. It was during the women's fireside dance that they showed up in my thirteenth year, and I was already up. I never wear skirts or dresses, such items are impractical in the mines, so I simply borrowed a veil to drape about my waist for the dance. It looked fairly ridiculous, but I didn't care. I was having too much fun. Gifa joined in quickly, and when it came time to rope in a dance partner, we carelessly tossed out our scarves and hoped for the best. Gifa's scarf was caught by Uruth, the blacksmith's middle son, who twirled her around effortlessly while staring longingly at Aerith the tanner. A sharp tug on my veil brought me nose to nose with Angrif, and he smiled and held out his hand. We stumbled through a few dances together before collapsing in a laughing heap on one of the benches away from the fire. Angrif thanked me for the dance, and I'd only begun to notice how nice my name sounded coming from his mouth when that very mouth was on mine. It was over far too soon for me, and Angrif was blushing like mad. He ran off with Gifa as soon as she finished her dance, leaving me to walk back to my home alone, sighing and touching my lips lightly.

We were sixteen when Gifa was killed, the Djun went insane, and Angrif slew his father to take his place as the new Djun. My friend hadn't been known as Angrif Djun for an entire week before he came to my shop. My young helper, Aletha, had run in excitedly, crying about how the Djun was coming, prepare myself! He walked in, and my breath caught. Angrif had changed so much in so short a time, and it suited him eerily well. He was no longer the young Angrif I'd once known, but an older, more rugged man I'd never met before, with a scar on the left side of his face and eyes that were quickly growing cold. Then he smiled at me, his eyes warm as sunshine, and my heart melted all over again. As it turned out, Angrif wanted a charm like the first one I'd made for Gifa. I told him I'd gladly make it for him, but it would take about two moons, as I was out of the stones it required and needed to mine them out and shape them. During those two moons, Angrif came to visit every day. We'd talk and laugh, and I found myself starting to fall for him more and more each day. Finally, the charm was done. It hurt my heart to see it fastened around his wrist, for it meant that Angrif would soon be riding out to face the demons that killed Gifa, and that he would stop coming to see me. That night, I went home and cried for the first time in eight turns.

The next day, I was about to take a short break for the midday meal when someone entered my shop. I looked up to tell them that we were closed for now, and came face to face with Angrif! His men, he said with a slight flush, thought that a good luck charm was a wonderful idea, and would I please make another dozen? I laughed, telling him that he didn't need to make up reasons to come see me, and he flushed _harder_! We ended up eating lunch together, and discussing current events. Angrif told me that he had no plans to rebuild the citadel. Instead he wished to create something better, safer, to protect his people. I wished him the best of luck with it, silently longing to be by his side as he accomplished his goals. Our meager meal was over soon, and Angrif sadly bade me farewell, returning to his training. I watched him leave, almost feeling my poor heart breaking. As soon as he was out of sight, I returned inside and began to put away my tools for the day, suddenly too tired to work anymore.

It was three days before I heard from Angrif again. His most trusted guard, Rowb, came to me, smirking as he informed me that the Djun wished for me to dine with him that evening, as repayment for the other days meal. Smiling genuinely, Rowb leaned down and whispered that perhaps I would like to borrow a dress from his wife? I nodded, mortified by the fact that everyone in town seemed to know the disgraceful fact that Veratice the beader didn't own a single piece of clothing that didn't relate to work. Later that afternoon, Rowb returned carrying a beautiful green dress, one with beads along the hem, cuffs, and neckline. I recognized it as one of my mother's designs, from when she would decorate clothing, not just make bracelets and charms. I stopped my work, closing down the shop almost immediately to go wash and dress, as I was expected at sundown.

The dress felt like heaven on my clean skin, and as I plaited my freshly washed hair, I considered weaving flowers into it. Then I remembered the shame Lady Venovel, with her lies and wickedness and flower-laced hair and decided against it.

It's so nice out that night, so I walk to the Djun's palace, sighing as I feel the wind on my skin. I arrive early, and just wander around and talk to guards until Rowb spots me and brings me inside.

The look on Angrif's face when I walk hesitantly into the dining hall is priceless. Before he even realizes it, he stands, and I giggle. He flushes, telling me that he'd always been taught to stand when a lady walks into the room, and then it's my turn to blush. The food we eat is delicious, beyond anything I'd ever eaten before in my life. I'm halfway through my meal before I realize that Angrif is just staring at me, his plate untouched. I flush, because I must be eating like a total barbarian if he's ignoring such amazing food just to watch me. So I put down my fork. Startled, he asks what's wrong. I apologize for my lack of manners, and he laughs. Angrif tells me that it wasn't a lack of manners that made him watch me, but the look of sheer bliss that crossed my face every time I tried something new. I flush again, and he laughs. From his sentry by the door, Rowb smiles. I later learn that it's because of me that Angrif is smiling and laughing for the first time since his sisters' death.

After our meal, Angrif walks me to the door, understanding that work waits for no man or woman. I look into his eyes before I leave and suddenly, I'm thirteen again, dancing at the harvest festival. Our lips brush against each other slightly, then it is my turn to run. I oughtn't have done that. Angrif is Djun now, and I'm still only a beader. He outclasses me in every way, and I could never be good enough for him.

Angrif truly has been training; he catches up to me in seconds, holding me tightly to him as I sob out apologies. For what?, he asks me. For kissing you! I reply. I'm only a beader, and you are Djun! I have shamed both you and myself, and for that, I am sorry.

He smiles at me, smoothing a lock of hair away from my brow. I am Djun now. He says. Class lines will soon disappear. I am no better than you, and you are no worse than me. Besides, a small grin tugs at his lips, I believe that I was the one who kissed you.

I feel my heart surge with emotion. If he is saying what I truly think he's saying… Breathing in the soft, heady scent of Angrif, I stare into his eyes. Any lie will now be revealed to me. I _love_ you, Angrif Djun, I say quietly. There is shock in those deep brown orbs, which quickly becomes happiness.

And I love you, Veratice, daughter of Teramisa the beader, he replies, leaning down to kiss me.

And in his eyes, I see it true.

Angrif and I are old now, at least thirty years has passed since our first kiss, but we still walk side by side. I know that our sons ridicule me for loving him so, even after all this time, but I care not. My Angrif, demon slayer who has slain no demons, the wisest Djun who ever lived, still loves me just as much. In a room full of people, his eyes see only me and when he tells me how much he cares, I need not look to his eyes to find truth. I can hear it in his voice, feel it in his touch, and sense it in his heart. My Angrif loves me and only me, and for that, I am grateful.

Fini

Oh my gawd, I am so sorry, guys. I love Angrif with all of my soul (or, at least the parts of my soul that don't love Thad), but even I have to say HOLY CRAP! Could I _possibly_ have made a more fangirlish character?

Veratice: Fuyuko Yuki.

You shut up. Okay, this was my story, now leave me a comment to tell me how much I rule or why I should hang up the pen for good. In other words, REVIEW!


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